Dark Lord Material
by TheallknowingandUnseen
Summary: This is a spin off of Harry Potter and the Methods of rationality by Less Wrong.  Branches from chptr 77  Please read his entire fic before even peaking at this. First chapter is Harry learning the killing curse
1. Chapter 1 Avada Kedavra

**This is a spin off of Less Wrongs Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality Fanfiction. All idea's and characters go to him and J.K. Rowling. I just couldn't resist jumping in on the fun.**

** If you have not read Methods of Rationality, please stop what you are doing and read it NOW! It is awesomeness in a can.**

**And now, please enjoy my fanfiction, of a fanfiction.**

* * *

><p>Truemythewise: *sigh*<p>

Inner child: *pressing hands over mouth, hardly restraining utter delight*

Truemythewise: "I suppose this is it…" *starts adjusting a rather thick rope into a noose.* "I never thought I'd let it get this horrible."

Inner child: "Oh, shut up, you know you're going to enjoy this!"

Truemythewise: "Yes," *nestling noose around neck* "I just never thought my descent into complete nerdom would ever happen. I mean, I'm past the point of no return once I do this." *Taking a deep breath.* "Alright. I'm going to do it. I'm going to do the unspeakable. I'm—" *swallows* "I'm going to write a fanfiction of a fanficiton!" *Promptly kicks chair out from under herself.*

Inner child: *cheers in delight* "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

Dignity: *shoulders slumped, dragging own noose behind.* "We had a line that we just did not cross. There is only so much you can do before you are a hopeless nerd." *rightens knocked over chair next to Truemythewise's swinging corpse* "And this is one of those things" *sets up own noose*

Inner child: *dancing and whooping in victory about the pair doomed personalities*

Dignity: "You are far too happy about this."

Inner child: "Oh please she's been wanting to do this for years. Just imagine FINALLY getting all those stories out of your head onto paper. No need to worry about being original this is going to be fun!"

Dignity: "Course you don't care about originality." *tightens noose around throat while continuing speaking* "I just don't see the point in writing off someone else's perfectly good work. The only reason why anyone would do such a thing is because they couldn't come up with anything awesome on their own."

Inner child: "Nonsense. There are plenty of original fanficiton's that are awesome in their own right. Besides, fanficition isn't about being original it's about going with it and having fun! Dignity be hanged!"

Dignity: *is promptly hanged*

Inner child: *cheers in victory* "Let the lord of chaos rule!"

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter one<strong>

**Avada Kedavra**

The day had arrived when Harry would learn the curse that had set into action his epic destiny to become the world's first immortal magical scientist. (or so he hoped anyway.) Today was the day he'd learn the infamous, unbeatable, unblockable, one hit KO Avada Kedavra. Today he'd see just how accurate Professor Quirrell hypothesis of Harry's intent to kill really was. Today…was going to suck.

It was going to suck for two reasons. One, if he successfully learned Avada Kedavra it'd be plus fifty points to dark lord Harry's reputation, which, after the incident with the bullies, had significantly grown. It didn't help that there were only five people in the entire world, including himself, who knew he could cast a Patronus. If Harry learned Avada Kedavra in his first year and not be capable of producing a Patronus, that was indeed a sure sign of him being a dark wizard. Oh, and he'd almost been sorted into Slytherin.

And two, today was going to suck because Professor Quirrell had decided he needed help in teaching the children of Hogwarts Avada Kedavra, and who better to fulfill the roll of assistance to death than Lucius Malfoy.

There were probably a host of other reasons why today was going to suck, but at the moment Harry couldn't think of them.

The extra credit lesson was set in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry sat in his usual seat in the back of the room, waiting for the Defense Professor to finish his 'security speech.' It wasn't very long.

"This is the killing curse. It kills people. When you cast this curse and hit your intended target do not be shocked to find them dead. I repeat, this is the killing curse. You do not use this curse unless you mean to kill someone."

Harry almost snorted, but too many people had decided to sit close to him today. As if his supposed immunity to the killing curse could somehow protect them. Most of them were Hufflepuffs, and a surprising number of Gryffindors.

"There are a number of useful way's to go about this curse, but until you have experience with it, stick to the notion that when firing this curse, expect people to die. Now, if there is anyone in the room who is uncomfortable with the current curriculum, I invite you to leave now."

Several students looked to one another, but no one rose. Harry's eyes drifted to Hermione. All he could make out was the back of her bushy head, but he could imagine the determined look on her face. Harry didn't think she had it in her to kill someone, but he knew she'd want to try and learn the spell anyway. Perhaps she even fooled herself into thinking she could do it, and maybe she could. Harry hoped that she wouldn't learn though. There was just something wrong with teaching Hermione Granger to kill people.

"Alright, I'm going to demonstrate the spell three times and then you are going to take it in turns coming up and trying it for yourselves," a twisted smile came to the Defense Professors lips. "Any volunteers?"

Several people scooted closer to Harry.

Professor Quirrell waved and three caged rats resting on pedestals appeared. He went through the gesture of the spell twice before uttering it.

"Avada Kedavra."

A flash of green light and the first rat was dead.

"The key to the killing curse is intent. You have to _mean_ to kill." He performed the gestures again, slowly for every first year to catch. And with the flick of his wand, an incantation, and the second rat was dead.

"I doubt there are many of you who will succeed in casting so much as a flicker of light, of those who do manage to get that far, do not be too disappointed to find your intended target very much alive," The Defense Professor went on before casting the curse a third time, finishing off the last rat. "Like anything, the spell takes practice and a certain mindset." He gestured and the three cages containing dead rats vanished. "Rise."

The class did so, and just as soon as Harry's feet hit the ground the desks before the first years vanished. At the front of the class room stood twenty pedestals containing live caged rats. Professor Quirrell had the people closest try their hand at the spell. Between him, and Lucius Malfoy, it took the whole of five minutes to instruct and correct the children's gestures before having them actually perform the spell, wands clearly pointing at the rats, and no one else.

There was a chorus of "Avada Kedavra" at which no rat was killed, not even a flicker of light. The first years looked to one another, not sure what to expect. Professor Quirrell had them try five more times before switching to the next group. While the next group was instructed, Lucius Malfoy set about the classroom, speaking to clusters of children before they were called up.

Harry couldn't imagine what sort of instruction Lucius would be giving. It seemed it'd be some time before he'd reach Harry and the crowd of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors that were drawing closer and closer to him. If they came any nearer they'd be huddled right next to him. It was as if they completely forgot the whole affair with Tracy Davis, or perhaps it was because of that.

Blaise Zabini was among the first to issue a spray of green light from his wand. He smirked with pride and welcomed the applause from the Slytherin's, but his flash was followed by Draco's spark that actually went a few feet before fading. Draco looked up and met Harry's eyes with a grin before taking his seat amongst the Slytherins and those who had not tried, or not succeeded from that house quickly congregated around him. A surprising number of Ravenclaw's did as well.

Tracy Davis managed something of a squirt her third attempt, and sneered at the classmates who'd failed next to her, but she wasn't the only one having success. A number of Ravenclaws and a handful of Gryffindors were producing flickers of light as well. It seemed Lucius's instruction was indeed helpful. And by the time he reached the back row, Harry was quite interested what advice he had to give.

However, upon reaching the group of nervous looking Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, Malfoy only sneered at them and said. "I know a lost cause when I see one," and turned to go.

"Hang on," Harry said, though part of him shared the relief with the first years gathered round. However, his curiosity wouldn't settle for it. "I'd like to hear what you told everyone else."

Lucius turned and regarded Harry. "The spell might come easier to those who have some understanding of death," his eyes flickered to the rest of the first years. "If any of you have family to suffer from this past war, thinking of them might prove helpful." And with that, he turned and strode away.

Harry wondered at that piece of advice. How would thinking of someone you'd rather be alive help you kill? Maybe he'd said it to be deliberately unhelpful. Harry was about to go and ask Tracy what Malfoy had told her, but his group was called next to the front.

It seemed the aura of doom was particularly strong today. Harry had only crossed halfway to the pedestals before he felt the beginnings of it. It was almost an intolerable distraction when he reached the pedestal. If the Defense Professor noticed the strain, he gave no sign of it. However, he did keep a greater distance from the rest of the students than he had with the others who'd come forward.

As with the other first years, Professor Quirrell had them master the gesture before attempting the spell.

_Any advice? _Harry asked his inner circle.

_Why waste time bothering with us? You know what you have to do._ Quipped Slytherin. Only Ravenclaw was in disagreement, but that was only because it wanted to see if _not_ consulting his dark side would produce different results.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry had missed the first try. He hadn't seen any flashes of light to either side of him, but that might have been because people were once again watching to see how he'd do on the extracurricular spell.

"Please, focus on your own wand work. Potter, I take a point from Ravenclaw for lack of effort. Again."

_Okay. _Harry didn't close his eyes. He started the gesture, along with everyone else, eyes focused on the rat. He needed to get angry. What could possibly set him off enough to make him want to break his resolution that everyone ought to live forever?

_Please, not Harry! Take me! Take me instead!_

_Very well, I accept the bargain. Yourself to die, and the child to live. Now drop your wand so that I can murder you._

His blood temperature was dropping rapidly, all this came to him in the matter of seconds it took to get halfway through the first gestures of the spell.

_There is nothing human left in him. Him you must destroy. You must not hesitate, when the time comes. To him alone, of all the creatures in this world, you must show no mercy; and when you are done you must forget it, forget that you ever did such a thing, and go back to living. Save your fury for that, and that alone._

He remembered the crimson eyes, the voice of death, and the high cold laugh. Oddly it was not fiery rage that filled Harry the moment before he released the spell. In that moment, just when his temperature seemed to hit somewhere in the negatives, he felt no anger at all as his dark side stirred and took over.

The rat needed killing. That was all.

_"Avadakedavra," _the spell ran off as one word from Harry's lips, seamless and complete. And it came as no surprise to him to see the jet of green light issue out of the end of his wand and strike the rat. It did not so much as squeak before going limp.

And Harry felt nothing. No simmering rage. No ominous resolution. The rat was dead. Harry had willed it to die, and so it did.

* * *

><p>(1) (not word for word but still) Chapter 43: Humanism, Pt 1 - Less Wrong Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality<p>

(2) Chapter 43: Humanism, Pt 1 - Less Wrong Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

(3) Chapter 76: SA After, Surface Appearances - Harry Potter and the Methods or Rationality


	2. Chapter 2 Intent to Kill

**This is a spin off of Less Wrongs Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality Fanfiction. All idea's and characters go to him and J.K. Rowling. I just couldn't resist jumping in on the fun.**

** If you have not read Methods of Rationality, please stop what you are doing and read it NOW! It is awesomeness in a can.**

**And now, please enjoy my fanfiction, of a fanfiction.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

**Intent to Kill**

The rat was dead. Harry had willed it to die, and so it did.

_Wait, what? That's it?_ Harry's brain had caught up with that thought. _That's the key to the unblockable Avada Kedavra? Wanting to kill something? _His cool dark side was rapidly receding as some part of Harry recognized the horror of what he'd just done.

He'd killed something. He'd really meant to kill something and it had died.

The rat cage lifted of its own accord and drifted over to Professor Quirrell. The class hadn't been very talkative, but even Malfoy's muttered instructions cut off. A dead silence hung in the air. (no pun intended)

The Defense Professor inspected the rat with an unreadable look. "Ten points to Ravenclaw for mastering Avada Kedavra on your first attempt, Potter," he drawled softly. With a wave of his hand the caged rat disappeared in a wisp of black smoke. Lucius made a strangled sound from somewhere behind Harry.

"What? No I didn't!" Harry snapped. A different kind of anger was filling him now and there certainly wasn't anything cold about it. _There is no way it can be that easy!_

Professor Quirrell arched a brow. "You do not believe me? I see that you are not alone in this. Perhaps another demonstration should convince you and Lord Malfoy." Another rat appeared on the pedestal.

Harry turned to glare at it. He was angry, that was certain, but the moment he started preparation for the spell he managed to block off that anger, focusing his intent on killing the rat. He flicked his wand. "_Avadakedavra_," his voice grew cool and collected as he said it and once again a jet of green light left his wand tip and struck the rat.

It fell over, completely limp.

There was a pause before Harry insisted, "It's just a rat… I can't have mastered the spell. Killing a person, a wizard would be much harder."

"Yes, I suppose a human would have moved, but then again if they were caged they wouldn't have gotten very far," the Defense Professor said, and though Harry was still staring at the dead rat, he could just picture that sardonic smile on Quirrells lips.

"No," Harry said and turned to face the Professor. The strange anger was coming back to him now that he wasn't focused on the spell. "There is no way I mastered a spell capable of killing anything and everything on my first attempt. That is just ridiculous."

He didn't know how he knew it, but in this moment the universe was laughing at him.

"I told you, Potter, on your first day that you'd be the most dangerous student in your year. You had not believed me, and now you see why," he gestured to the second dead rat. "It is your intent to kill that makes the Avada Kedavra curse so easy to you. No other student in this classrooms intent to kill comes remotely close to yours. You will go to whatever lengths to kill your enemy without flinching, without the slightest hesitation, not when you really mean it."

"Are you telling me," Harry said slowly, coolly, not in any way calm. "that all you have to do is just want something to die, say Avada Kedavra and then it just _does_? That is—that's just- what the hell! It can't be that easy! Not when-" Harry had to stop himself from finishing the sentence. _Not when the counter was so difficult to learn…_

"And what do you mean my intent to kill is stronger than everyone else here? How could anyone want something to die _more _than someone else? Just how is that measured anyway? Say two people go at it with the killing curse and their spells hit at the exact same time. I'm pretty sure they'd both want to kill each other equally. Nether of them would want to die any less than the other. What then? Do they just both die?" _Or maybe one of them fears death more than the other so that would give them the upper hand. Did my mother fear death less than Voldemort? That didn't make any sense, he even let her start before he did. How _couldn't_ she kill him off?_ _Did her intent to kill fall short of his, even at the cost of her own son's life?_

"There has to be something more to it."

"I'm sorry, Potter, but there really isn't," Quirrell didn't sound apologetic, at all.

"No! No! No way there is not! You're saying that Voldemort," Harry didn't stuttered, half the class gasped in horror and the other half lips were too tightly pressed together to let out so much as a breath. A chill swept down Harry's spine, but he was too angry to notice it. "could go about killing whoever he pleased because he bloody wanted to and no one could stop him because they just didn't want him to die enough? He could just go around shouting

Avada Kedavra wherever he damn well pleased and if you didn't move away fast enough you'd just die?"

The sense of doom spiked and continued to bear down on Harry at the mention of Voldemort's name. The Defense Professor hadn't moved yet the intensity of it felt as if he were inches from Harry, not several feet away.

"I think," Professor Quirrell said softly. "that you ought to leave the room for a while." He pointed towards the door that Harry had entered after he'd learned to loose. "Leave your wand on the table outside."

"That isn't an answer."

"Twenty points from Ravenclaw and a week's detention and if you don't move now it will be fifty."

Harry couldn't believe it. Quirrell was the most rational person Harry knew, why on earth was he suddenly acting like Snape? "For what?" Harry spat. "For asking a damn question?"

"For terrifying your classmates."

Harry looked and indeed people were watching him with mixed expressions of horror. In fact, the people who'd been practically crowding him had taken several steps away. It was only in their absence Harry saw that Hermione was among those who'd attempted the spell with Harry, and she was looking at him now with tear brimmed eyes, and it was that sight that had eased Harry's anger and nothing else.

Without another word, he turned from her and did as Professor Quirrell asked.


	3. Chapter 3 Poking the fire

**This is a spin off of Less Wrongs Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality Fanfiction. All idea's and characters go to him and J.K. Rowling. I just couldn't resist jumping in on the fun.**

** If you have not read Methods of Rationality, please stop what you are doing and read it NOW! It is awesomeness in a can.**

**And now, please enjoy my fanfiction, of a fanfiction.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

**Poking the Fire**

A horrible silence hung in the air, even after Harry had set his wand aside and shut himself in Professor Quirrell's backroom. Hermione was struggling with herself. Part of her felt so much sympathy for Harry that she was literally tearing up. It hadn't been right what the Defense Professor had done, Harry really hadn't done anything wrong and for Professor Quirrell to claim Harry deserved punishment for 'terrifying' his classmates was laughable. Since when did Professor Quirrell care so much about the student's mental wellbeing? Certainly not on the first day of class or any day since. He practically awarded points to the student who could be the most 'terrifying.'

No, Harry had done something else that Professor Quirrell did not like, and she wanted to say as much. However, she was in a room full of people learning a spell that could potentially kill her, and Lucius Malfoy wanted her dead, or something horrible to happen to her anyway. Now would be an incredibly stupid time to challenge the Defense Professor, especially since he was already riled up.

"You know," Hermione began, voice slightly trembling. "you are one of the most horrible people I have ever met." Ah, well, the hat _had_ offered her Gryffendor.

Professor Quirrell turned to her, his mouth twitching in that evil smile of his. Whatever he'd been feeling before, he was nothing but amused at what Hermione had just said. She didn't know why that made her even angrier. She should be relieved that he was not asking her to stand in front of the class and have everyone practice Avada Kedavra on her.

"You think it _horrible_ of me to send an angry student out of the room after he'd just mastered a lethal spell? Perhaps it would have been more prudent of me to let things escalate till someone ended up dead. Sorry, but I do not follow your logic, Miss Granger."

"You should not have punished him! He didn't do anything wrong!" Hermione yelled. She wanted to pose a more intelligent argument, but she wasn't Harry, she didn't talk like a textbook, she couldn't come up with counter arguments to soot her needs on a whim.

Professor Quirrell arched a brow. "Are we still talking about Potter, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's jaw tightened at that. Of course they were talking about Harry. This had nothing to do with what had happened to _her_ a few days ago. "Your reason for punishing him is for 'terrifying' us. If that were true, you would have taken points away the moment he cast the curse because _that_ was what scared everyone. But you didn't. I don't think it was us that Harry had scared, Professor, but _you_!"

Professor Quirrell laughed and Hermione knew she'd said something wrong and now he was going to make a joke of her and she had to think of something intelligent and accurate to say before he did.

"No," the Defense Professor said ending his throaty laugh quite abruptly. He turned to the rest of the class, who had been watching the exchange in a state of fixed horror, or maybe they were still perturbed at what Harry had just done. "Is there anyone here that does not feel threatened by Potter?"

No one said anything.

"I don't!" Hermione and Neville said at the same moment. He'd spoken softer than she had and she would not have heard him if he were not standing so close to her.

Clearly the Defense Professor had not, for when he next spoke he only addressed Hermione. "That, Miss Granger, simply isn't true. You'd been just as frightened as everyone else. When Potter got angry you felt threatened and scared which is why you did not speak until he'd left the room."

"I didn't speak because I was angry!" Hermione burst out. "It wasn't Harry getting upset that had scared me! It was the fact that he killed something that had scared me and it would have scared me _more_ if he had taken that in stride. The fact that Harry got upset made him _less_ threatening. And you were being really insensitive and unfair and you still are and you don't care because you are a spider!" She stood there fuming for a few moments. It took a mental effort to keep from shouting.

Professor Quirrell simply watched her, a vexed expression on his face and it was another moment before he said. "Perhaps you ought to step out for a while as well, Miss Granger."

She was about to spin on her heel and storm out of the room when she realized something. She was angry, really angry. And part of her thought she was being stupid but…

_It had worked for Harry._

She spun towards the rat, preformed the gestures perfectly, and in a voiced filled with rage shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

Nothing happened. Not even the squirt of light Tracy had managed. It was so unfair! When Harry got angry he got to kill things, but when she did she just ended up looking like an idiot.

"Alright, you made your point. You can stay," Professor Quirrell said.

Hermione snarled. She would _not_ take another minute of his mockery! This time she really did spin on her heel and storm out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her for good measure.


	4. Chapter 4 Questions

**This is a spin off of Less Wrongs Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality Fanfiction. All idea's and characters go to him and J.K. Rowling. I just couldn't resist jumping in on the fun.**

**If you have not read Methods of Rationality, please stop what you are doing and read it NOW. Really, I mean it. Stop reading this and slap yourself for your insolence.**

**Okay, from this moment on I'm going to assume that everyone has read it.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

** Questions **

A week ago Hermione would not have had the courage to stand up to Professor Quirrell. A week ago she would have went to Professor McGonagall, or Flitwick and expected them to settle things. But a week ago her teachers had not betrayed her, had not stood by and watched Snape break her. She finally understood what Harry had meant by McGonagall not being responsible. The transfiguration professor was not a heroine.

But Hermione was, or at least she intended to be.

She was halfway down the hall when she realized how stupid it was of her to storm out of the classroom. She _needed_ to learn the killing curse. The bullies sure weren't going to pass up the chance to learn it, and she wasn't convinced that they were finished with her. Harry had explained Dumbledore's reasoning behind letting Snape berate her, and after hearing it she did partly agree with the Headmaster. However, had it not been _her_ to be punished so severely, she would not have stood for it.

And now Lucius was at the school to kill her. Quirrell had not done her any favors by re-awarding her all those points. The Defense Professor wasn't going to help her, and Dumbledore would rather let her die than start another war. Harry would help her, she could count on him. He'd probably teach her the killing curse once she enlightened him to her current predicament. She wasn't sure if he really had mastered the spell, but it was clear that he understood it better than she did and she would be damned to storm back into the classroom now.

_Never mind about my problems, what about Harry?_ What should she do to help him? After all, he had got her out of serving real detention time. It was only fair of her to return the favor. But how could she do it?

"Does anyone else feel the need to have an emotional outburst?" Professor Quirrell addressed the class. When no one replied he motioned for the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors to return to the front and resume their practice.

Draco was hardly paying attention to them. His mind was split three ways as three different issues demanded his attention and he was equally divided between them. Part one was still registering just how scary Harry was. How could someone, who's life resolution was to live forever and find a way for everyone in the entire universe to as well, master a curse on his first attempt that was in complete contrast to that goal? Of course Harry had not been lying when he revealed that part of himself to Draco. You can't fake casting a Patronus! Could you? Draco was beginning to wonder. Harry hadn't actually let Draco look at his Patronus, for all he knew it could take the shape of some monstrous, incredibly deceptive beast whose sole purpose of existence was to mess with Draco's head. But then he remembered the unbelievable light the Patronus let off and he knew Harry hadn't been lying. That still didn't help Draco's rational. Harry couldn't possibly be that divided.

Then again, this was the same person who had screwed over his entire life and thought it prudent for them to still be friends. Harry, Draco concluded, was insane and could make absolutely anything happen whether or not he snapped his fingers.

Part two was occupied with his Father and how he was taking all this. He'd certainly seemed surprised enough at Harry's competence with the killing curse. He was probably hearing all the little subtle conversations that Draco's distracted and inexperienced mind was simply not picking up on.

He didn't want to think about why his father was really here. Professor Quirrell could have asked a number of people to assist him in teaching the students of Hogwarts the killing curse. Why one earth would Lucius Malfoy, one of the most important figures in Magical Brittan, take time off his busy schedule to teach a bunch of kids how to properly kill each other? No, Father had come for entirely different reasons, and Professor Quirrell had simply taken advantage of Lucius' presence. How the Defense Professor had convinced Father to help him was something Draco would have to consider when his mind was not in thirds.

And part three was thinking about what Hermione had said. It did make sense. What _had_ Harry done to provoke such a reaction from Professor Quirrell? Surely it wasn't being upset for realizing just how easy it was for the Dark Lord to kill his parents. Perhaps he thought it unwise of Harry to display so much emotion in front of Father, so before any more damage could be done he had Harry leave the room. That _could_ be it… Or maybe the Professor really did think Harry might have lost it and killed someone. Though, from Grangers display and his own understanding of the curse, he knew that anger didn't necessarily mean success with the spell. Then again, if Harry really had mastered Avada Kedavra perhaps it would not matter how angry he was.

It was Draco's turn to try the spell again.

He stood before the caged rat, picturing the creature going limp. He began the gestures, imagining the breath leaving the rat, willing it to die. "Avada Kedavra," Draco said and once again a green spark left his wand, but as before it faded before reaching the rat. Draco wondered if he stood closer he'd be able to at least hit the rat, maybe then it would die.

The lesson wore on. Fewer people were having success with the spell than when they first started. When the first signs of disappointment began to show amongst the children, Professor Quirrell called a halt, promising there will be open practice later that evening. There were also scheduled session with Lucius as well so there would be plenty more opportunity to learn to murder people.

As his fellow classmates began to file out of the room, what Draco had been dreading since the start of the lesson finally happened.

Father tapped Draco lightly on the shoulder and said softly, "Walk with me, my son."

And Draco knew that his promised doom had finally arrived.


	5. Chapter 5 Speculating

**Voldemort: *singing* "I'm as happy as a squirrel, long as I'm with mister Quirrell."**

**A Very Potter Musical**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

**Speculating**

Crabbe and Goyle were sent away of course. Judging by Goyle's look of worry, Draco knew that his minion had not betrayed his suspicions to Lucius. That did little to relieve Draco of tension. His father had probably already come to the same conclusion as Golye without the kids help.

Some of the other Slytherins took note of Draco's departure with his father, but whatever thoughts they had on the matter would not be discussed until they were safely back in their common room. Hopefully Potter's and Granger's actions would take precedence over a seemingly ordinary event as Draco taking a walk with his father. By the time they came to that particular subject matter, Draco would have returned to the common room… maybe… possibly not. Crabbe and Goyle would stick around anyway, if only to inform Draco what everyone thought of the matter.

Lucius did not speak at once, simply walked with his cane drumming against the floor tiles. Draco kept his expression relaxed, though his palms were beginning to sweat. _Damn you, Potter!_ Draco thought venomously. _I should not have to fear my own father!_ He knew it was not _entirely_ Harry's fault. Draco really should have been less clumsy in coming up with plan to restore Slytherin's name. No, he didn't come up with a plan. That was the problem. He simply did something so Gryffindor no one knew how to take it. A Malfoy _helping_ a mudblood? Just _what_ was he planning?

_Nothing._ Draco thought bitterly. _And I really should have… too late now._

Something of Draco's thoughts must have shown on his face, for his father said, "I am not disappointed in you, Draco."

Draco looked up, surprised.

"You did quite well in preforming the killing curse."

Draco let a small smile come to his lips, but, inside, his heart had dropped and settled somewhere in his stomach. His father would not say what he really thought of Draco until they were in more private quarters.

Click. Click. Click. Went his father's cane.

Draco felt as if he should say something, but didn't know what. His father was probably reading all sorts of things from Draco's silence and after too long a pause Draco finally came up with: "I'll get it down eventually."

Click. Click. Click.

"You seem distracted," Lucius said.

Click. Click. Click.

"I've got a lot to think about."

Click. Click. Click.

"I see."

They did not speak again until they reached Lucius' private rooms. Draco did not know how long his father would be staying. Probably just long enough to restore the Malfoy's wavering reputation.

Lucius shut the door and immediately began setting wards against ease dropping. Draco's heart was hammering in his chest. His throat had constricted to a point that he could not trust himself to speak. His hands were now slick with sweat and now his forehead was beginning to bead up as well. He turned from his father before any of this weakness could be spotted. But he had to get a hold of himself quickly or it would be obvious that something was wrong, not that there was really any point in hiding now.

"Do you know why I have come, Draco?" Father said.

Draco still didn't trust himself to speak. He at least managed to get a hold of his expression and quickly wipe the sweat from his forehead before turning to face his father. He did not speak. He could not make the words come out. _To disown me, cast me out of the Malfoy family. Condemn me for betraying the blood purist's belief and rejecting my future as a Death Eater. I am to be punished for learning and accepting the truth. _But Draco could not say any of these things. It was all he could do to meet his father's eye.

"There is something at work here," Lucius said when it became clear that his son was not going to speak. The words took Draco by surprise. "I am told you were not involved in the war between Miss Granger and the lesser fiends of Hogwarts. It is clear that you have aligned yourself with Potter, and he extends protection to Granger. Judging by the current state of things at Hogwarts, I do not think that it was unwise of you to form an allegiance with Potter, he indeed seems to have found a very powerful friend."

Draco wondered if father was referring to the ghost of Slytherin, but could not bring himself to ask such a ridiculous question out loud.

"Who?" Draco asked instead.

Lucius' eyebrows shot up. "Can you not guess?"

Draco thought, but he still decided it would be stupid to suggest the ghost of Slytherin in front of his father.

"Surely, you do not think Potter acted on his own in the incident with Tracy Davis? Draco, you must know that he does not have that amount of magical strength."

_Not magical strength. But Potter has his science, and he'd been at Hogwarts for one semester and who knew just what sort of horrible concoctions he came up with to strip and glue fifty students to the ceiling._ But, again, Draco didn't say any of this out loud.

"It was the Defense Professor," Lucius finally said.

Draco blinked. "Professor Quirrell?"

Lucius nodded, and took a seat in a recliner beside an empty fire place. He gestured for Draco to do the same.

"Why would Professor Quirrell get involved with a student's quarrel?" Draco could not believe he just said that with a straight face.

Lucius only gave Draco a brief look before saying, "Why indeed."

They sat in silence for a few minutes and Draco still couldn't see what Professor Quirrell had to gain by such an act. Well, it had gotten Lucius' attention. Maybe he did it for the sole purpose of having Lucius teach children the killing curse.

"Why are you here, Father?" Draco asked.

"I'm part of the board of governors for the school and a _real_ battle nearly took place in a classroom. It is clear that the current headmaster does not think student safety is top priority. Children are being taught how to kill, have mock battles on a regular basis, and seem to be heavily under the impression that there is going to be another war. Someone is going to end up dead, and I am here to be sure it is not you." 

"Father," Draco said after a pause. "Professor Quirrell seems to be responsible for almost all of that."

"And who hired Professor Quirrel?"

And then Draco saw it. Dippet had not remained Headmaster long after the death of Myrtle.


	6. Chapter 6 Detention

**Voldemort: "You think killing people would make them like you but it doesn't. It just makes people dead..."**

**A vary Potter Musical**

**Again, this is a Fanfiction of a Fanfiction, all ideas/characters/whatever belongs to Less Wrong and Rowling, ultimately Rowling.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

**Detention**

News of Harry Potter's success with the killing curse spread quickly throughout the school. At this point, Harry had learned to expect the student body of Hogwarts to know anything he did out of the ordinary the instant he pulled it off. Ah, the wonderful workings of time turners.

So it came as no surprise to him when he entered the great hall, moments after he'd left the Defense classroom, that almost every head in the room was turned towards him, and yet somehow no one had the courage to say anything. Harry pointedly ignored them and took a seat at the Ravenclaw table. At least he could count on no one wanting to talk to him. He _really_ wasn't in the mood. He would have much preferred to sit in his trunk, eating meal bars and avoiding everyone, however, not showing his face after he'd mastered the most deadly spell in the world would have caused more damage to his reputation.

Just as soon as he sat down, Harry loaded his plate with anything that was in front of him and started eating. Any brave Ravenclaw would now know better than to strike up conversation.

After he'd calmed down, Harry had wanted to speak with Professor Quirrell, but the Defense Professor hadn't given him the chance. The door to the little room at the back of the defense class had opened of its own accord, and the Professors voice drifted into the room, by use of the ventriloquist charm, to announce Harry's scheduled time of detention. Harry had enough time to catch the defense professor trudging out of the room, already in zombie mode. He had known better than to approach Professor Quirrell then.

The great hall broke into a whispering buzz when it became clear that Harry was _not_ going to go off on a killing spree. However, those Ravenclaw's sitting closest to Harry did vacate their seats before they had quite finished eating.

Almost as soon as the Ravenclaws left, Hermione slipped in beside him. She drew out her wand and said, "_Quietus_." She then took the extra measure to lean in close to Harry and whisper. "Can you teach me the killing curse?"

Harry paused in the act of raising his fork to his mouth. He slowly lowered it and turned to stare at Hermione. She looked completely serious.

"I know this isn't the best time to ask, and I'm sorry for doing it now, but I _have_ to learn that spell," Hermione whispered. There was a note of apology to her voice.

Harry set his fork down. "You know I am not authorized to do that," his voice was just as quite as hers. Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry talked right on over her. "No, even if I could, I don't have the time." It was true. With Professor Quirrell's added detentions to Harry's already packed to the brim schedule, he'd have to use his time turner just to eat. And even if he had the time, he wouldn't teach Hermione that spell. If she wanted to pursue it on her own, fine, but Harry wasn't going to help anyone learn _that_ spell. It was _too _dangerous.

Hermione closed her mouth, but she still bore a determined look and Harry knew this would not be the end of it. However, when she next spoke, her tone was surprisingly gentle. "I'm sorry about what Professor Quirrell did. That was wrong of him."

Harry picked up his fork again, and resumed his meal.

* * *

><p>He spent the rest of that evening in his trunk, and the better part of Sunday as well. He studied and practiced spells, doing his best to distract himself from the little hole that was slowly widening in his heart. He called himself nine kinds of idiot, but it didn't help. The hole was still there, like a minor wound, constantly bleeding and not completely painless, and if he didn't do something it'd eventually bleed him dry.<p>

_I shouldn't have believed Professor McGonagall, not for a second. Of course she'd paint my parents out to be saints. _He should have known that they were weak, selfish, shallow people. He spent ten years of his life working up a horrible image of his genetic parents, not allowing himself to form any sort of attachment to them, so why did it bother Harry so much? They hadn't cared about Harry, not enough to kill Voldemort, even when he gave them a chance to. He must have seen them for what they were. Cowards only making play at being Heroes. Gryffindors…

When time came that evening for Professor Quirrell's detention, Harry was still upset, but did his best to keep his expression collected as he entered into the Defense classroom. He was taken by surprise at the sudden sense of doom. It bore down on Harry the moment his foot crossed over the threshold into the room, and for a panicked instant he considered turn tail and fleeing. But then he saw that Professor Quirrell was not at his desk, but in the back of the classroom where Harry usually sat, and realized the sense of doom might not have anything to do with Professor Quirrell's current mood.

"Please approach the stage, Mr. Potter," Professor Quirrell said softly.

Harry glanced at the Professor briefly before doing as instructed. He could not imagine what was held in store for him. Learning to loose had been an unpleasant experience, but a needed one, and it was nothing compared to their fieldtrip to Azkaban, and neither of those two events were the cause of a detention handed out by Professor Quirrell. This time, the Professor had something planned for the sole purpose of punishing Harry. He really should be more nervous, but his anger had still not quite cooled, so he met the Defense Professors eye with something of a defiant look. His inner Slytherin screamed at him for his lack of tact.

"You know why you are here?" Professor Quirrell asked.

"For scaring people," Harry replied and some of his defiance left him.

"No," Professor Quirrell answered unexpectedly and then he took out his wand and preformed the spells necessary to ensure secrecy. When he had finished he drew his wand in a horizontal line and all around the dais appeared cages and cages of rats, oversize spiders, large spiked and oozing slugs, creatures of claws and teeth and not one of them looked very pleasant.

"These are a collection of pests that I have rounded up about the school. Rather than having the usual crew deal them, that duty has been passed on to you this evening." Professor Quirrell then pocketed his wand and five sheets of parchment appeared before him. His eyes scanned the sheets and he did not look or speak to Harry again.

Harry's mouth was parted slightly in shock. _This _was to be Harry's punishment for… for he didn't even know what.

"Professor Quirrel," Harry said. "This seems a little excessive."

"You're in detention, Potter. Of course it's not supposed to be pleasant. Now get to work or I shall have to deduct house points," the Defense Professor replied dryly, not taking his eyes from the parchment.

Hopelessly, Harry stared at the caged doomed creatures. He drew out his wand, managing to block off his confusion and now dull anger in preparation for the spell.

"_Avdakedavra,"_ Harry said, and the over-sized spider sagged, its many legs curling in on itself.

"_Avdakedavra._"

The horned slug splatted against the floor of the cage slime oozing over the edge and onto the dais.

"_Avadakedavra_," and on it went. The creatures didn't have enough sense to be scared. Had no idea that as each one of their brethren died, it brought them one step closer to death. Despite Harry's efforts, he could not help but recall his parents last moments. _It's so easy!_ Harry screamed inside, barely keeping that hot anger at bay.

He'd preformed the spell ten times with pauses before he had to take a break. He sat on one of the cages that now held a dead spider. His heart hammered in his chest and he felt a wild disgust with himself, but it was nothing compared to the hatred he bore towards the Defense Professor in this moment. This was cruel. Completely purposeless. He turned his head over his shoulder, but Professor Quirrell was still occupied with the grading of papers.

Each time Harry preformed the spell, it became harder and harder to keep the anger and hurt off. The hole in his chest was widening and widening and more than just a small amount of blood was spilling from that wound now.

"_Avdakedavra." _It was so hard to keep the anger at bay. And a thought occurred to him. Why should he? The dark lord had surely been upset when he slaughtered the entire dojo. With the next spells casting, he let his anger boil over, let his rage fuel the spell, while still keeping his intent on killing the animal.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The spell left his wand, wild and sizzling with power, but was no less effective at taking the animals life. Yet, it had felt different. Harry performed the spell again, and it was not at all difficult to maintain his anger even as his inner Ravenclaw calculated the difference.

_It's slower, less precise._ Ravenclaw observed.

Harry paused, breathing heavily. He tried to understand why the anger made a difference with the spell. He still wanted to kill the animal and it had still died.

_It's the emotion. It interferes with the spell. _ Ravenclaw said and nodded to itself.

And that was when Harry realized why Voldemort had been able to kill his mother, even when she had stared the spell before he did. It wasn't that she had not cared enough about Harry to perform the spell accurately. It was _because_ she cared so much for him that Voldemort was able to kill her first and that was why he had laughed. She hadn't been thinking about just killing Voldemort. She had been thinking about him, Harry. Her fear and her rage slowed the spell and to Voldemort, a being completely devoid of emotion, could see straight through her weakness and exploit it.

That must have been what Professor Quirrell was trying to teach him.

"I understand why I am here, Professor," Harry said quietly. He just barely kept his voice from trembling.

"The pests are still there," was all the defense professor said.

Harry blinked, now unsure what to think. With his heart in the pit of his stomach, Harry finished off the rest of the creatures. He had performed the killing curse more than thirty times during the detention, and as he killed off the last one he was beginning to feel exhausted. He turned to Professor Quirrell, and opened his mouth, but he spoke before Harry could.

"The pests are still there," he said yet again. This time, he looked at Harry directly, parchment vanished.

Harry stared and when he caught Professor Quirrell's meaning, another wave of disgust ran through him. He now had no idea what the Defense Professor was trying to teach him, if anything at all.

Harry reached into his pouch. "Bottle of gasoline," he said.

The cages tops opened with an easy _Alohomora_. He used the hover charm to stack the bodies together in another cage. The gasoline was divided sparsely, but it still wasn't enough to burn every single creature. He set fire to the ones he could, placing a bubble head charm over himself to keep the smell off. He _Finite Incantatemed_ the smoke and drifting sparks as a prevention to letting the fire get out of control. When he had finished, there were still about twenty creatures left in their cages. He was having trouble just staying on his feet.

He wished he could just vanish them with a snap of his fingers like Professor Quirrell. Instead, he piled the bodies up again, and this time used an alarming amount of parchment from his pouch, broke three desks, and used the material to fuel a fire hot enough to burn the rest of the corpses.

At the end of it, there were several chard cages and spots of blackened wood along the dais. Harry had let the fire burn itself out. He stumbled to the edge of the stage, and sat down. He glared up at the Professor, his tired mind too slow to even begin to wonder at the purpose of all this.

"That was… an interesting performance, Mr. Potter," Professor Quirrell finally said after several quite moments.

"Are you going to tell me what the point of all this was?" Harry asked, not bothering to mask his anger or his disgust.

Professor Quirrell arched a brow. "I thought you said you knew."

"I thought I did," Harry replied harshly.

"Why is it that you think you are here?" Professor Quirrell asked. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm.

"To slaughter and burn over thirty creatures apparently," Harry replied coldly.

"I never asked you to do those things," Professor Quirrell said, the beginnings of that all too familiar smile quirking at the end of his lips.

Despite his exhaustion, Harry threw himself from the dais onto the floor. "You told me to kill them and get rid of the bodies!" he shouted.

That smile broke into an all-out grin and a laugh full of mirth escaped the Professor. It was several moments before he managed to control himself enough to speak, and at which point Harry desperately wanted out of the room. He was beginning to realize there was something really wrong with Professor Quirrell.

"No, Potter. I did not tell you to kill and burn forty two pests. I told you to deal with them. You could have simply brought them to the edge of the forest and let them go. That, by far, would have required less effort than slaughtering and burning them."

Harry's mouth fell open, completely flabbergasted. And after a full two minutes he said, "Well, you certainly didn't do anything to stop me."

"No," Professor Quirrell agreed. "I didn't. But perhaps now you understand why you are here."

Harry looked over his shoulder at the ash covered stage, his expression grim. "To realize there is something really wrong with me…"

"I wonder," Professor Quirrell said, tapping his cheek. "How many other people would have considered doing this?"

Harry swallowed.

_Just one._

* * *

><p><strong>Truemy the Wise: "Gaa arg nooooo!"<strong>

***box tumbles off shelf and CRACKS open***

**Truemy the Wise: "The CRACK is unleashed!"**

***WARNING* WARNING* WARNING***

**READ AHEAD AT YOUR OWN RISK. THIS IS CRACK. I REPEAT. THIS IS CRACK!**

Voldemort: "You know Quirrell and I always say you gotta hit yourself where it hurts, wait, ah, that's not it."

Quirrel: " No, no, no, sit down or you're gonna hurt yourself. It's, 'you gotta hit them where it hurts.' Look, kid, people do horrible things to you and there's nothing you can do about it, right?

Haryr: "Right."

Quirrel: "Wrong! When people do mean things to you, you turn around and hit them tenfold!"

Harry: "That's not what I was taught."

Quirrel "Than maybe you need a new lesson. Repeat after me. 'Avada Kedavra'

Harry: "What?"

Voldemort: "A-va-da Ke-da-vra. It means no worries."

Quirrel: "Avada Kedavra! What a wonderful phrase."

Voldemort: "Avada Kedavra! Ain't no passing craze."

Quirrel/Voldemort "It means no worries for the rest of your days. It's our problem-free philosophy, Avada Kedavra!"

Harry: "Avada Kedavra?"

Voldemort: "Yeah. It's our motto!"

Harry: "that's your motto?"

Quirrell: "Yeah. What's the-motto with you?"

Voldemort: "Ya know, kid, these two words will solve all your problems."

Quirrell: "That's right. Take Tom for example. Why, when he was a young wizard..."

Voldemort: "When I was a young WIZARD!"

Quirrell: "Very nice."

Voldemort: "Thanks."

Quirrell: "He found some father lacked a certain appeal

So he cleared the table after the meal."

Voldemort: "They were sensitive souls and hard to send.

It hurt, but every life must come to an end!"

Voldemort Quirrell

And oh, the shame He was ashamed

So I got to changin' my name Really what name?

And people got downhearted Who cares how they feel?

Everytime that I...

Quirrell: "Hey! Tom! Not in front of the kids!

Voldemort: "Right. Sorry."

Quirrell/Voldemort

Avada Kedavra! What a wonderful phrase

Avada Kedavra! Ain't no passing craze

Harry: "It means no worries for the rest of your days!"

Quirrell: "Yeah, sing it, kid!"

Harry/Quirrell

"It's our problem-free"

Voldemort: "philosophy"

Harry/Quirrell/Voldemort

Avada Kedavra!

Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!

Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!

Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!

Avada Kedavra! Avata-

It means no worries for the rest of your days

It's our problem-free philosophy

Avada Kedavra!

_(Repeats)_

I say "Avada"

I say "Kedavra"

**_Note: This sillyness was written prior to watching a certain awesome video. Check it out at New Grounds "avada kedavra"_**

**_Thank you, Peer Infinity, for the link. _**


	7. Chapter 7 Kicking up Dust

**Truemythewise:** *clears throat* *pulls out a roll of parchment*

"Dear Readers, I'd first like to thank you so much for taking time to read this Fanfiction of a Fanfiction. Watching the graphs on my page has caused me no end of joy. Also, thank you for adding Dark Lord Material to your favorites and alerts, it shows that you do indeed like this fic. And, do forgive me for asking this but the situation is dire. For you see, there is someone here in desperate need of your attention. Her name is **REVIEWBOX**, and she is currently starving. You can help this neglected wretch by simply clicking the **Review** button at the end of this chapter and type a hopeful message to her. She appreciates any and all messages for every word brings her one step out of starvation.

And now, without further ado, please enjoy this fanfiction of a fanfiction."

**Note: I posted the above when there were 0 review, so rest assured REVEWBOX is no long starving and is very appreciative to LauralHilll, and ajuc.**

**Thank you.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

**Kicking up Dust **

He trudged through the upper levels of Hogwarts. His heart had fallen right out of his stomach and was now trailing behind him on the floor, only connected to his body by the veins and arteries that kept his muscles moving and brain running. Professor Quirrell was right. He was a killer. He tried to argue himself out of it, saying they were just pests, animals that had no cognitive concept of death, at least not a full sentient understanding. Harry _wouldn't _have done that to a person. He couldn't even picture it. And he had thought that was what Professor Quirrell was asking of him. If he didn't think that's what the Defense Professor wanted him to do, he would not have done it.

_You shouldn't have done it anyway! _Screamed Hufflepuff. _You hardly considered what you were doing. You just went and did it because that's what was expected of you._

_This is just like Azkaban all over again. You didn't bother to think of the consequences of that either._ Quipped Gryffindor.

_Hey now everyone it's not as horrible as you think, we _learned_ something new!_ Said Ravenclaw.

_Oh yes, how wonderful it is that we now know how to coolly and efficiently kill someone,_ said Hufflepuff dryly.

_It could come in handy._ Sytherin put in.

Harry still wasn't sure what he'd done to land him in Professor Quirrell's detention in the first place. At the moment, Harry couldn't bring himself to care. It was past four in the morning and he smelt of smoke and charred animal. He felt disgusting, oily, and in more than just the physical sense. He wanted to lay in a tub of boiling water till of the grit secreted out of his pores and his skin shriveled up.

The portrait chattered a riddle at him, which took not even a tenth of his attention to answer. Harry was brooding so deeply about the night's events that he tripped over a lump just outside the portrait hole. He hit the floor with a groan, and he wasn't the only one in pain.

"Oomph, ah, god."

Harry twisted on the floor and looked down at his feet. He could make out Hermione's bushy head from the top of a sleeping bag. He was past the point of being surprised. He just blinked stupidly at her for a few minutes as she crawled out of the sleeping bag.

She threw her hair from her face and looked at Harry. Her nose wrinkled. "You smell horrible," she said.

"What were you doing?" Harry muttered, getting to his feet.

"Isn't it obvious, I was waiting for you," Hermione said collecting her sleeping bag. "I don't think Professor Quirrell is allowed to keep you so late."

Harry blinked at her again. "You were waiting for me? Why?"

Hermione hesitate, but she fixed Harry with a determined look and he suddenly knew what this was about.

"Please," Harry said before she could start on him. "Not now."

Her expression softened. "Okay," she said quietly and after a brief paused asked, "What _were_ you doing?"

"You don't want to know," Harry sighed and started trudging to the boy's dormitory.

"Um, yeah I do," Hermione said following behind him.

"Trust me, Hermione, you don't."

"I—alright. I can see that you've had a rough night. But, Harry, I really do need to talk to you," Hermione said, not unkindly.

Harry nodded, hardly aware of what he was agreeing to. She left him then.

The following morning Harry looked like death, and Hermione said as much at the Ravenclaw table. He hadn't slept as much as he needed to, even with the use of his time turner. Today wasn't going to be a pleasant day for Harry, nor would it be for anyone forced to put up with him.

"There really has to be something in the school rule book about keeping children out of their dorms after hours," Hermione said.

"I don't think there is a school rule book, and if there was one Dumbledore would have confiscated it years ago," Harry muttered.

Rather than arguing that the Headmaster would never destroy a piece of Hogwarts literature, Hermione simply nodded, which was a surprise. "Still, it's worth it just to look."

Harry sighed. "It's fine, Hermione, even if there was a rule book, and there was something in there about keeping kids out of bed late at night, I doubt the Headmaster would listen to a word of it, not if he didn't want Professor McGonagall to chop his head off. Professor Quirrell is untouchable, remember? Besides, it wasn't his fault I was up so late…" his voice trailed off.

Hermione didn't seem to notice anything significant. She simply snorted and said, "It was his detention you were attending, wasn't it? And I don't care what McGonagall does to Dumbledore, you shouldn't be sleep deprived on a school day. It interferes with your education and ultimately your future. And if Quirrell cared about that he would not have kept you so late."

Harry stared at her. Just what had gotten into Hermione? Not only was she disregarding a professor's declaration, but wasn't even referring to her teachers by their honorary title. Something had indeed changed in Hermione, and Harry didn't have to think hard to guess what had caused it.

"Listen," Harry began, hoping to halt a disaster in its tracks. "It really wasn't _Professor _Quirrell's fault I was up so late. It was my own doing, so don't go blaming-"

"You shouldn't be in detention in the first place!" Hermione snapped. "He had no good reason to punish you and if you didn't like Quirrell so much you would not have gone along with it. I bet if you tried you could make Dumbledore make Quirrell get you out, but you didn't and you won't and so it's up to me to make sure you get your sleep!" and with that, Hermione threw herself from the table and stormed out of the great hall, leaving a half-eaten breakfast behind her.

Harry gapped openly after her. And he had thought _he_ was in a bad mood…

* * *

><p>It was thirty minutes before classes started and the Sunshine General had called an emergency S.P. H. E.W. meeting. Padma, Lavender, Parvati, Susan, Hannah, Tracy, and Daphne now sat in a circle around the General's desk. Hermione had considered leaving Tracy out. The girl might alert Harry to any plan's Hermione had in store, and he would no doubt try and stop them. But if she pitched her suggestion right, she'd earn Tracy's undying loyalty. <em>I've been hanging around Slytherins too long…<em>

The girls looked to each other wearily, Susan the weariest of them all. The girl gazed at Hermione as if the General had lost sight of her senses, and perhaps she had, but that didn't matter.

"Alright," Hermione began. "We are gathered-"

"General," Susan broke in, unable to contain herself. "Please, I don't want to do anything that will get you expelled or into any more trouble. And I really don't think it's a good idea to be fighting bullies right now. Lord Malfoy is here and he is close with almost all of the bullies parents. He's probably devoting extra effort into teaching them the killing curse, and I know some of them are cunning enough to make it look like an accident."

Hermione waited for the girl to finish before patiently going on. "We aren't going to be fighting bullies," she said and Susan visibly relaxed. "We are here to pay off a debt we owe to Harry Potter."

Tracy perked up. She held herself aloft, as if she were listening for the future Dark Lord's benefit. Susan's weariness returned.

"Last night, Harry returned from detention after four in the morning, smelling like charred road kill and looking like death. And we all know that Quirrell's teaching methods are far from ordinary, and if he had to punish someone I doubt there would be any lengths that that man would not go to, to see his victim properly demoralized. Knowing Harry, those lengths had to have been quite extreme and nothing within any teacher's power," Hermione paused here partly to let what she was implying sink in and partly to marvel at her own speech. She had actually stopped for a moment to think and plan what she was going to say to the girls.

Hannah's brows drew together, but Hermione had not expected her to get it right off the bat.

"What, exactly are you suggesting we do?" Daphne asked slowly. She was the first to comprehend what the Sunshine General was implying.

Susan's mouth parted slightly, but she didn't say anything.

"Ladies," Hermione went on. "We cannot depend on the teachers of Hogwarts to do the right thing. We can't depend on Dumbledore to put a stop to whatever Quirrell has in store for Harry, and nor can we trust Harry to pull himself out of whatever unpleasantness the so called 'Defense Professor' has planned in those detention periods. It is up to us, the Heroines of Hogwarts, to put a stop to Quirrell's uncontrolled plotting!"

"Hear! Hear!" shouted Tracy.

"But, didn't Professor Quirrell help us?" Hannah asked. Her round face gazed innocently up at Hermione. "Wasn't he the one who gave back all those points?"

Hermione shook her head. "He did me no favors, for now our enemies do not see us as fully crushed so they will try harder to end us. But our quarrel with the bullies is on halt for now. We need to focus our attentions on Quirrell," Hermione blinked. She could not believe she just said that out loud with a straight face.

The other girls didn't seem to notice, or if they had they showed no sign of it.

"What's your plan?" asked Tracy, the only one at this point that seemed to be all for it.

"Wait, a minute," Parvati said. "We haven't agreed to anything yet."

"We owe Lord Potter a debt!" Tracy snapped. She sneered evilly and for some reason Hermione remembered that that girl had come closer to casting Avada Kedavra than any of them.

"Lord Potter?" Daphne blinked.

"Of course, he is of a Noble and Most Ancient House," Tracy said. Daphne opened her mouth, but was cut off.

"Alright, who here is in favor of helping Harry," Hermione broke in, putting a stop to the tangential argument. She thrust her hand into the air, and Tracy's eagerly followed. Hannah's was next, followed by Padma and Lavender. The remaining three girls shared a look.

"I am for helping Harry," Susan said. "But I'd like to know just what it is exactly you think you can do to stop Professor Quirrell." The other two girls nodded.

"So we are in agreement to help Harry?" Hermione said, ignoring the other question for now. The girls nodded. "Alright," at least they'd gotten that settled. Now for the hard part…

"We need a name for this," Lavender said abruptly.

Hermione blinked. "Name for what?" If she was about to suggest renaming S. P. H. E. W, to stand for 'Super Potter's House of Evil Witches,' Hermione was going to throw her out a very high window.

"This operation," Lavender said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "How about 'Operation Save Harry!'"

"That makes him sound like a damsel in distress," Tracy said. "Why not, 'Operation aid future Dark Lord?'"

"Harry is not the next Dark Lord!" Hermione snapped. "If he was, we wouldn't be doing this."

"Isn't this more about stopping Quirrell?" Parvati put in. "It should be, 'Operation get Potter out of Professor Quirrel's detentions!'"

"That's too much of a mouthful." Padma said. "We should just say, 'Operation get Potter out of Detention.'"

"That doesn't sound very impressive," Lavender noted. "Why not just, 'Operation stop Professor Quirrell!"

"No!" Tracy said leaping to her feet, a chaos grin stretching across her face. "It will be called, 'Operation Destroy Professor Quirrell!' He's doomed anyway."

"Yeah, that sounds awesome!" Lavender cheered.

"All in favor?" Tracy said throwing her hand into the air and glancing about the room. The majority of hands went up.

Before Hermione could put stop to it, or even suggest another name the bell went off and the girls shot out of the room and dispersed. Hermione heaved an internal sigh as she ran for the Green House. Operation Destroy Quirrell… that hadn't been her first intention, but she had to admit it did have a nice ring to it.


	8. Chapter 8 The Pact

**Hey, just wanted to first give a shout out to Less Wrong, and whoever runs The Methods or Rationality webpage. Just wanted to say thank you for adding Dark Lord Material to the list of fanfictions. I wasn't expecting that. Though I'm sure you people do it for every fanfiction for Methods or Rationality, but still its a cool of you to do that. So... THANK YOU!**

**Anyway, here are chapter.**

**Thanks Theonebutcher for the name of the book.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

**The Pact**

To avoid having to deal with the now not so frightened student body of Hogwarts, Harry left the Great Hall earlier than he usually would have. Greenhouse One was not located within the castle and only a complete idiot would get lost finding it, especially after spending over a semester at Hogwarts. Otherwise, Harry might have used that excuse and purposely arrived late for class just to further put off the host of overly curious students who would not be so easily deterred to interview him.

Harry arrived at Greenhouse one early, early enough that even Professor Sprout had not arrived to prepare the day's lesson. The Greenhouse was locked, so he couldn't even go in there and pretend to be doing something productive. Instead he plopped down on the ground and pulled out 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' and began sifting through it, not really taking anything in. He'd already read the book entirely twice and it wasn't because he enjoyed it ever so much. He had rushed through it so quickly the first time he hardly remembered a word of it, not that he'd ever admit that to Hermione.

Hermione… He was more than a little concerned with what she would try to get him out of detention. At least he could trust that she wouldn't do anything too drastic. She was a rule abiding student after all… uh maybe not anymore.

The sounds of someone approaching caught Harry's attention and without thinking he looked up from 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'. Draco Malfoy and his two goons were making their way towards the Greenhouse, the first from Slytherin to arrive that day. At a gesture from Draco, Crabbe and Goyle stopped, crossed their arms, and frowned menacingly at nobody.

Draco continued to Harry, who watched his approach with an expression that made it clear he didn't want to be talked to right now. Draco didn't even pause, just blundered over to Harry, drew out his wand, and said, "_Quietus._"

"What do you want?" Harry said, none too kindly.

Draco frowned, but other than that gave no more notice of Harry's tone. "We need to talk."

"We're talking," Harry said irritably and looked back down at his book.

"I mean privately."

"No one's around."

"Look, Potter, this is important," something in Draco's tone gave Harry pause, but he did not look up from his book nor did he reply. "Meet me-"

"No," Harry said cutting him off. Despite Harry's mood, his inner Slytherin hissed at him.

_What are you doing? This is a Malfoy, not some over egger Gryffindor, or skimpy Hufflpuff. Apologize! _

_Bugger off!_ Harry said. Such was his state that he couldn't even be civil with his own imaginary personalities.

"No?" Draco repeated, and Harry, knowing Draco quite well, picked up the edge of annoyance.

"I don't have time," Harry said curtly.

"Then make time," Draco hissed, losing civility himself. "This _is_ important."

"Just tell me now, no one's around."

"I can't just-" Draco took a breath. He bent over, placing a hand on the Greenhouse wall that Harry was propped up against. He leaned over Harry in a threatening manner and if anyone had been watching they would know that the scone of Malfoy was not just having a little chat with The Boy Who Lived before class. Luckily, no one was around, and when Draco next spoke Harry _did_ look up. "It's about our pact," Draco whispered unnecessary.

Harry blinked, and slowly closed his book. He hadn't been expecting that topic to resurface anytime soon.

"What do you mean?" Harry said slowly.

"We can't talk here," Draco said and tried to give a time and meeting place again, but Harry cut him off.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but we have to talk here. I literally do not have the time to meet with you, so please make it quick." Harry said, just barely keeping his annoyance from his voice. It didn't come out apologetic, but at least he was no longer snapping at the hair of Malfoy.

Draco observed him a moment, still poised above, before removing his hand from the wall and squatted down in front of Harry. "Look," he whispered. "Father and I have a chance to unseat Dumbledore and if you want in I'd considered part of our pact fulfilled."

Alarm bells went off in Harry's head, blowing away his former sleep deprived bad mood. This _was_ important and not something Harry could just back out of. If Lucius Malfoy was planning to kill Dumbledore…

"I haven't seen any evidence that shows the Headmaster did what he did," Harry whispered, forgetting that the action was completely unnecessary.

Draco's lip curled. "I thought you took our friendship seriously."

"I do," Harry insisted. "But, Draco, this is-"

"Important, yeah, I told you. Look, Harry, I'm fulfilling my part of the pact. I've started to at least try to restore Slytherin's name. What have you done? Have you put any effort at all into finding evidence? I'm sure it wouldn't be hard for you and your muggle science to find _something_."

That hurt. Part of Harry knew Draco was trying to manipulate him, or at least suspected he was, but it still hurt and it worked. Harry felt guilty. He really hadn't put any effort into looking up evidence on Dumbledore, and if he did value Draco's friendship he would have at least done that much.

Harry met Draco's disappointed look and he knew that Draco knew he hadn't and it just made him feel worse.

And for some reason Harry thought of Charles Horton Cooley theory 'The Looking Glass Self' which explains how a person's conception of self arises through considering our relationship to others. The theory develops from how we think we appear to others, how we think others judge us, and last how the first two make us feel. It involves perception and effect, the perception of how others see us and the effect of others judgment on us.

Even with this rationalization, Harry still felt guilty.

"Alright, but it's-" Harry began, but Goyle's shout "People coming!" cut him off, and Draco abruptly rose and strode casually over to Crabbe and Goyle.

The more eager Ravenclaw students arrived and Harry noted that Hermione was not among them, which gave him more cause for worry. Noticing the Ravenclaws had spotted him, Harry opened his book once more and made a point of ignoring them. Professor Sprout shortly showed up and opened the Greenhouse, after ten or so minutes the rest of the class arrived, well everyone besides Hermione and Padma, Daphne and Tracy.

The Professors lips pursed together when it was time for class and the girls still weren't there. And just as Harry was about to make an excuse to go look for them, the four girls stumbled into the room, almost one on top of the other and completely out of breath.

"Sorry," Padma panted.

"That's twenty points from Ravenclaw, and twenty points from Slytherin and should I learn you girls were starting trouble it'll be more than that," Professor Sprout said. There was a flicker of something in her facial expression, but it was gone and Harry was too distracted to think much of it.

The girls glanced at Hermione, but said nothing and took their usual seats.

Hermione offered no explanation or apology. She simply took a spot beside Harry, (eyeing down the poor Ravenclaw who'd been previously sitting next to him.)

As Professor Sprout started the lesson, Hermione whispered "_Quietus,_" which surprised Harry, though at this point he really should have learned better. She turned to him and whispered. "We need to talk."

Harry stared at her.


	9. Chapter 9  Repercussions

**Thank you, Anon, I've corrected the typo's you pointed out. Will try and do better in the future. ^^**

**Also, REVIEWBOX would like to thank every one of you so much for your messages. She's going to pull through and make a full recovery. Luckily, she was not left untreated for long so there was only some minor tissue lose, and most of if was body fat.**

**And now please enjoy this fanfiction of a fanfiction. :)**

**All ideas/characters/whatever go to Less Wrong and J.K Rowling.**

**ps**

**sorry about the double postage, it was an accident. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

**Repercussions**

"No," Harry said for the umpteenth time. He and Hermione were coming out of the Greenhouse ahead of most of the students. It had taken Professor Spout about ten seconds to see Hermione's cast '_Quietus_' charm and broke it before Harry had gotten two words in, which was just as well. She deducted another twenty points from Ravenclaw and gave Hermione a note to give to Professor Flitwick, probably containing detention times.

"Look, you don't understand," Hermione persisted.

"No, Hermione, you don't!" Harry snapped, finally losing patience completely. "If you really want to kill someone, take a knife and stab them, or set them on fire or something, there are plenty of ways to kill people other than Avada Kedavra."

"Look, Harry, I know this is a sensitive topic for you—"

Harry's anger flared. _Sensitive topic?_ Since when was killing someone considered a normal day to day conversation?

"But you should know," she continued. "That I would not ask you if it wasn't important. Harry, you can't always protect me and I need an edge. I mean, everyone knows I can't do the Patronus charm and if I fail at this to-"

"Hermione," Harry said with a slight groan. "the killing curse isn't some clever spell that teachers will give you high marks for knowing or students would admire you for. Would you admire someone who knew every weak point in your body, capable of killing you in an instant? Do you admire idiots who carry guns? No, just because you know you can kill someone doesn't mean people will look up to you for it."

"I don't care if people look up to me, Harry, I want people to fear me!" it was the last thing Harry would ever suspect to come out of Hermione Grangers mouth. After a brief pause, Hermione seemed to register what she had just said and some familiar uncertainty returned to her. "I mean, that came out wrong. I'm sorry, Harry. It's just, Harry, I need to be able to defend myself and when the bullies hear I can't do Avada Kedavra they'll, they'll and oh, it's not just them." She bent in closer to Harry and whispered, "It's Lucius, I'm pretty sure he's here to kill me."

"What?" Harry hissed, though he didn't automatically put off the notion. "Hermione, do you know how much trouble he'd land in if he even attempted to kill a twelve year old witch?"

"Of course he's not going to go out in the open about it," Hermione hissed back. "But if people knew I could do the killing curse they'd at least be a little weary to try and start something with me."

At this point, Harry took Hermione by the hand and steered them towards the lake. They'd been walking a good distance ahead of everyone else so the entire body of first year Ravenclaws and Slytherins saw the pair of them veer off. Harry looked over his shoulder and noticed Draco looking his way, but there was too much distance between them to catch his facial expression. He'd have to deal with that latter… eventually… possibly never.

"Hermione," Harry said, once they'd lost sight of everyone. "I understand your reason for concern, and it is a really good reason, but I think you'd have better luck learning the Patronus charm."

"The Patronus charm won't help me against people, Harry."

"It's more powerful than you think," Harry said. "At least when learned properly, and I really believe you can learn it."

They both came to a stop at the edge of the lake. Hermione looked out over the water, a breeze rustling her busy hair. "Are you going to tell me _now_ how to cast it?" she asked.

"I've already helped you as much as I can. It's something you have to figure out on your own," Harry replied, watching her. He _really_ wished he could tell her more.

Her brows drew together. "And I suppose the killing curse is also _something I need to figure out on my own?_" There was more than just a hint of sarcasm to her words.

"No," Harry sighed, and, despite his earlier refusals, he gave in and explained, "all you need to perform that spell is to really want to kill something."

Hermione turned to look at Harry. "That's it?"

Harry nodded. "And if you really had it in you to kill someone, Hermione, you wouldn't need to ask me."

"I see," Hermione said after a pause. She looked back over the lake and let out a breath. "I guess I should go see Flitwick now." She turned to go.

"Hermione," Harry said. She stopped but didn't turn around. "Don't do anything to interfere with Professor Quirrell's detentions. You know he doesn't hand out punishment lightly."

"Do you know why you are being punished?" Hermione asked. All Harry could make out was the back of her bushy head. He offered no reply and she said nothing more.

* * *

><p>It was hard for a man that hardly came up to your chin to be intimidating, but, somehow, Flitwick managed it. He scrutinized the dirt splotched note Hermione had handed him, lips pressed so tightly together he seemed not to have any at all.<p>

"Miss, Granger," he said in a trilled whisper. "Is this true? Did you, my young, _Ravenclaw_ student disrupt a class in session?"

"Um, no," Hermione replied, not completely defeated. _I cast the _Quietus _charm. It would have been a _little_ more disrupting if I had not._

"Did you, or did you not attempt to distract a student in the middle of a lesson?"

"I just wanted to ask Harry a quick question-" Hermione said with not an ounce of respect she would have usually shown the Charms Professor.

"Miss Granger," Flitwick interrupted with a sigh, letting the hand holding the note fall. "You know better than this. I'm not going to punish you," he said quickly as Hermione's expression began to change. "You have enough detentions to be getting along with, and you've already lost forty points to Ravenclaw. I can see that you do not think very highly of your teachers right now, but please consider that we do have your best interests at heart. Please try and keep out of trouble?"

She left the charms classroom not quite keeping her anger as effectively as she was accustomed to these days. Professor Flitwick disheartened voice and pleading words almost convinced her not to go through with her plan… almost.

* * *

><p>Classes had just ended for Monday, and Harry was more than ready for his four-poster bed, unfortunately he had another detention that evening, not to mention dueling lessons with Neville. He also wanted to meet with the Chaos legion and Draco, he'd probably end up doing one or the other. At the moment, Draco was more pressing so that took precedence over tactics for the next battle, whenever that might be.<p>

He decided to skip dinner and sleep for an hour before detention, which hopefully this evening would last only an hour. He'd just veered off from the rest of his fellow Ravenclaws, thoughts occupied with how he was supposed to find evidence on a murder that took place more than ten years ago, when Hermione came chasing after him.

"Harry! Harry!" she shouted, pushing her way through the gaggle of first years.

He kept walking.

_Excellent, keep this attitude up and Professor Quirrell is sure to let you out early. _Sytherin sneered.

"Harry," Hermione said, coming to walk beside him. "I thought about what you said, and I realized that you were right."

Harry, mouth half open, about to let loose a few well-crafted words, instead let it drop a few inches. _Hermione_ admitted he was right about something? He closed it, and let out a sigh instead. "That's great, Hermione."

Maybe, if he'd been more awake, he would have been at least a little suspicious. As it was, Harry wasn't completely sure which conversation she was referring to, nor did he much care. He continued up the marble stairs, hoping she'd go away.

"Yeah, I really got to thinking about the Patronus charm and you know what?"

"What?" Harry asked in far from enthusiastic tones.

"Well," Hermione said looking over her shoulder. She watched the last of the first years round the corridor before going on. "I did it."

Harry stopped in his tracks. "What?"

Hermione smiled and grabbed his hand. "Get out your cloak and I'll show you."

Numbly, Harry reached into his pouch and pulled out his cloak. Something wasn't right, but that could be blamed on the surreal feeling you get when you lose enough sleep. Just as Hermione snatch the cloak and began stuffing it into her own pouch, Harry wondered stupidly why she would need an invisibility cloak to cast the Patronus charm.

"Come on!" she said, taking him by the hand. She practically yanked him up the last few steps and continued to drag him around till they reached an unused classroom. He might have been angry at the treatment, but he was in too much of a state of shock to care. He _did_ understand her enthusiasm though, so he let the groaning of his arm suffer in silence.

She glanced self-consciously about the room, eyes darting to the empty desks and chairs. She flashed Harry a nervous smile before breaking into the gestures for the Patronus charm, but when it came time to expel the words she spun to Harry and said, "_Somnium_!"


End file.
